


china doll

by swallows (toska)



Category: Persona 4
Genre: F/M, Rule 63, genderbent, i just have a fascination with girlji- i blame eva, i wish p4 and a feMC, mythology splattered around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toska/pseuds/swallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>adachi/fem!souji —she’s a really ugly girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	china doll

**china doll**  
—she’s a really ugly girl.

.

He first met Seta, after puking up his measly lunch and day old coffee (contrary to popular belief, it’s not because he was so unsettled from seeing a dead body, but from being pissed drunk last night). She’s a plain girl, he notes. Her hair braided into two separate strands and her uniform is a formal, and ankle length.

A prude, he thinks, despite coming from the city— Seta is nothing, but of average, humble disposition.

How disgusting.

And from the corner of his eye, he could see her. Though she was walking in the shadows of the buildings, hiding— he knows she’s there. Maggot filled, cracked and broken.

He wonders if anyone else could see the ugly side of her.

Wiping his mouth, he goes back to the crime scene.

.

He doesn’t talk to her much after that.

But he sees her walking around town, hanging with her friends around Junes— just watching over them. Sometimes, he wonders if Seta thinks herself a God. She surely acts like it, giving people advice and listening to their problems (and after a while, he doesn’t see those people with Seta anymore. He sees them happy, as if all their problems have been solved after a few moments with Seta and

—and her goddamn silver hair, as if it makes her seem more angelic and pure.)

.

“For a detective, who mainly eats cabbage and cheap ramen— you surely are in Junes a lot, aren’t you?” Seta asks him one day, and he finds his hand, clutching the grocery basket, tightly.

“For a high school girl, you spend quite a lot of time in Junes, don’t you, Shizue-kun?”

“Someone needs to make dinner,” Seta responds, not missing a beat.

“You like cooking?” He asks, not surprised. She does seem like the kind of girl to have dinner cooked, for her sleazy business man husband.

“Not really,” she replies— he looks at her, eyebrows raised.

“I got sick of takeout.”  She clarifies. “And it’s not healthy for Nanako, to be eating so much take-out. It sometimes leads to food poisoning, among other things.”

“You’re quite caring aren’t you, Seta? “  He asks her.

“I guess,” she shrugs.

A silence ensues, and he realizes how awkward she is. It’s like if her mouth was shot off, and she was left with her tongue dangling. Seta is expressionless, and frankly creepy with dead fish eyes, and chapped lips.

“Your uncle probably sent you, didn’t he?” He says trying to cover up the silence.

She nods.

“Slacking off is a nasty habit like smoking, it’s hard to break. But don’t worry about it— I’ll get back into the swing of it in a few days. I’ll practically be a new man,” he joked.

Seta doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head in acknowledgement and walks away.

He finds himself a bit unnerved.

.

It’s been 3 months and she’s changed.

Her hair is now cut into an angular bob (and it suits her face much more, sharpens it), but she still keeps her uniform long and her body hidden in silent protest against the change.

“She sort of reminds you of Izanami, doesn’t she?” The gas station attendant says, offhandedly as he fills up his gas.

“Huh?”

“Her.”

The attendant motions his head towards Seta. “She has that aura about her, right? She wears red and white often, she tends to remind me off a Shinto Goddess.”

“Wasn’t Izanami the one who ate the fruit of the dead, and turned into death herself?” He asks, eyebrow quirked upward.

“Who am I to say she isn’t?” The attendant laughed.

Looking at Seta, flushed cheeks and pink lips— he wonders why it’s so easy to see her as a rotting piece of flesh, with maggots. And he knows.

Seta is death, herself.

.

He finds himself wanting to seal her away, locking her away in a casket, and burying her, till she’s out of sight.

But she’s everywhere, and he wonders if this is revenge or some sort of divine punishment from the gods.

And now she’s talking to him more, and he can notice the difference. Her expression has livened and she’s developed quite an understanding about the world. Seta’s always been smart, every time he went to the Dojima residence— he would always hear about how “Big Sis, placed first in the exams!” from Nanako, and good things from the neighbors, who would asks to pass their compliments for Dojima’s lovely niece.

He snorts; there isn’t anything great about her anyways.

He pauses as he walks closer to the Dojima residence, and watches her pull weeds and water plants with her roll up her sweatpants. Nice legs, he appraises.

“Nanako-chan, out today?” He asks

She looks at him in confusion.

“Normally, she helps you in the garden.” He rectifies, “she always talks about how the two of you grew this or that.” He smiles.

Seta tilts her head in understanding, before asking, “What are you doing here, Adachi-san?”

Oh Seta, always straight and to the point, never dealing with the pointless bullshit of a conversation— then again, her company is rather telling.  

“I’m here to drop off some papers for your Uncle.”

She nods in understanding, and he rubs the base of his neck sheepishly and asks, “Mind if I get some water?”

She runs her tongue across her lips and smiles, “Of course, Adachi-san.”

.

There is something arousing about watching a woman work in the kitchen, but Seta doesn’t give you that feeling of pleasurable dominance.

Seta brings his water quickly and efficiently— polite out of sheer necessity, than feminine charm.

She’s full of juxtaposition and maggots, and he needs to get out.

Out of here, out of this house, out of this shithole town, he needs Seta out of his life.

“Oi, Seta!” He calls out instead, and she turns back from her place in the kitchen to look at him. “Does your Uncle have any alcohol here? I need a drink.”

“He’ll notice the drinks are gone.”

“He won’t mind if it’s me.”

“He’ll mind your influence.”

“Stop being such a fucking goody-two-shoes Seta, and just live a little. We already got shit  loads of kids with sticks in their asses here, it wouldn’t hurt you to break the status-quo.” He snaps, and he’s not sure where this, these words came from.

Not from his heart, but the fact that he revealed this part of him to Seta made him uncomfortable. But he didn’t show it, Seta… Seta was a predator like him, even if she didn’t know it yet.

Instead he found himself locking eyes with Seta, with not much to be said, until Nanako unlocked the door and came inside, a few minutes later.

.

He made a slow, languid retreat out from their house, only to have Seta running after him.

“You forgot your cell phone,” she says, handing the object towards him.

He nods in thanks, and she turns around.

He wonders if their lives will be comprised of them walking away from each other, never together. And honestly he would rather it be that way.

.

Instead he finds Seta coming to him.

“You’re the only one honest with me, about me.”

He snorts, “You got that from what? One sentence?”

“Two.” She corrects.

He laughs hollowly, “Christ, Seta. You’re a fucking riot.”

.

He’s not sure what surprises him more, the fact that Seta is quite skilled at a game of tonsil hockey or the fact that’s she’s a smoker.

“It reminds me of death,” She admits, “I find it easier to breathe, when I lite one.”

“And when you kiss those boys, what does that do to you?” He asks.

“Forget,” she says simply.

.

Their bodies are pressed against to each other, grinding, lips scraping against one another— tends to be the time when Seta is the most honest, and so is he.

His hands are moving lower and lower, unclasping buttons and Seta’s are looking straight past him.

“You’ve done this before.” He stated.

“So have you.” She countered.

“You’re a _seventeen_ year old girl.”

“You’re the man unbuttoning my shirt; I don’t think you have the right to make statements about my age.” Seta whispers into his ear, and he can feel that smug smile as her lips start to scrape against his throat.

He doesn’t hold back.

Neither does she.

.

It’s late at night and they’re fucking around in the back of his car, and his hands are tracing circles on her upper thighs, and she’s staring at the fog that’s out his window.

Seta is colder than he remembered, and he wonders if that is his influence. But there is that part of her that still remains unchanged, no matter how hard he tries to crush it. That heroine, that still shines through. (It’s her eyes, just like those eyes of the girl he saw years ago at Tatsumi Port Island. Those eyes— calm, cool, ready to face the calamity ahead.

He can’t escape those eyes.

And he swears, he’s being haunted by this girl and her maggot filled body and her maggot filled friends. )

.

The TV world is contaminated with Seta.

She _knows, she always knew._

And it’s not that’s he surprised, because he’s not. And Seta is looking for him with haunted bedroom eyes, and he feels trapped in a sense. Invading his world, his mind, just because he left her sealed years ago.

Well, whose doing the sealing now?  He laughs bitterly.

.

Seta’s face doesn’t betray any of her thoughts.

“Why, are you still being nice?” He questions.

“Are you stupid or what?” Tatsumi scoffs, “We ain’t like you, man. Your punishment lies in the real world.”

The others chime in, but as they drag him out, he hears Seta whisper, “You deserve that second chance. Even Magatsu-Izanagi was given a chance to clean the filth from his body. ”

He stares at her stunned, “You knew?”

Seta doesn’t reply at first.

“I suspected.” She finally admitted.

He’s turned into the station laughing, but it's only until he reaches his cell that realizes that he's crying. 

.

He’s in prison, when he receives a letter.

“ _My world is simply too big for just you_ ,” it says.

And to the guards it might seem like some break up note, but Adachi doesn’t see it that way.

Instead he crumbles up the paper, and smiles.

 .

fin

**Author's Note:**

> got inspired by signalbeam's _fly by night_ , but i had adachi be the one with faint, distorted memories and i also took great use of my creative licences because mythology is hard sometimes.
> 
> this needs to be edited soon.


End file.
